


December, Take Two (The Old Arguments Remix)

by 1848pianist



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Still Have Powers, Angst, Canon Disabled Character, Canon Jewish Character, Exes, Fights, Holidays, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-24
Updated: 2015-08-24
Packaged: 2018-04-17 02:43:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4649205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1848pianist/pseuds/1848pianist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Erik crosses the line when he confronts Charles's boss. The same argument they've had a hundred times before results.</p>
            </blockquote>





	December, Take Two (The Old Arguments Remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mabyn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mabyn/gifts).
  * Inspired by [December, Take Two](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2690141) by [mabyn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mabyn/pseuds/mabyn). 



> My first Remix! This was a lot of fun to write.
> 
> Warning: some slight ableism on Erik's part.

“That was unnecessary,” Charles snaps, as he enters the mansion, not bothering to look back at Erik. He hadn’t asked Erik to come home with him, but then, Erik always did as he pleased, didn’t he.

“I think it was exactly what was necessary,” Erik replies. From the tone of his voice it would be hard to tell that he’s even angry, but Charles knows him better than that.

“Why? Because I can’t take care of my own problems?” Charles finally does look back to level a glare at Erik. Though he’d never admit it, he’s embarrassed that Erik had forced his way into Charles’s meeting with the dean, as though Charles needed rescuing from anti-mutant discrimination or whatever else he believed the issue was.

“It’s not a matter of whether you _can_ ,” Erik says. “I know that you’re capable of solving problems, it’s just that you _don’t_.”

“Meaning what? Meaning I don’t break down Dr. Abbott’s office door to shout about issues that could be resolved much more easily? Really, Erik, I’d call that _creating_ problems.”

Erik scoffs. “The door is fine. And your discussions and negotiations may fix the problem short-term, but they don’t do anything for the long run. This is exactly why the Brotherhood is needed.”

“The Brotherhood,” Charles says. “And what have they done for mutants recently? Oh yes, that’s right, they’ve turned most of the U.S. government against the mutant cause entirely. Meanwhile, my research—”

“—Is sitting in the ivory tower of academia, of no use to anyone besides other mutant scientists.” A muscle in Erik’s jaw is twitching, revealing just how angry he really is. They’ve had this fight twice this week already, but that doesn’t stop Charles from rising to the bait.

“At least it’s not actively hurting people.”

Erik waves his hand, indicating the wider world. “Tell that to the hundreds of mutants out on the street with nowhere to go because their families estranged them. Tell that to the _thousands_ of mutants with _visible_ mutations _—_ ” he glares pointedly at Charles, “—who are killed in hate crimes. Your passivity _is_ harmful, Charles.”

“It’s not the same thing, Erik. Not the same as your Brotherhood. Helping a few individuals immediately does not balance the damage you’ve done.”

“It’s not me doing the damage,” Erik growls, stepping forward. “If you really believe that then you’re paying even less attention than I had thought. Whatever you think of the Brotherhood’s methods—or of mymethods, for that matter, we are not the enemy. That’s the humans, Charles, the ones you’re always defending. That isn’t me.”

“You seem to be trying awfully hard to change that,” Charles snaps.

Angry silence falls between them. Finally Erik says, “Fine. Clearly I should go, then.”

Charles sighs. “Yes, I think you should.”

“That’s it, then?” Erik’s voice is even, but his eyes are furious. Charles doesn’t bother to listen to a word of his thoughts – he knows they’re indignant.

“That’s it, Erik.” Charles turns his chair around forcefully, thoroughly intent on storming out of the room.

“Charles.” Erik’s tone is snappish, still angry, but with a note of surprise. He hadn’t expected Charles to up and leave. “ _Charles_.”

“We’re done, Erik.”

“We’re not.”

The wheels of Charles’s chair jerk to a stop. “Let me go, Erik. _This instant_.” He doesn’t bother to control the strand of telepathy he adds for emphasis.

Erik does, as though surprised by his own actions, but Charles doesn’t wait for an apology that won’t come. Instead, he slams the door to his bedroom, just because he can. From the presence outside, though, he knows that Erik hasn’t given up yet.

“You can’t just walk away from this, Charles. This is about more than hurt feelings.”

 _Poor choice of words,_ Charles thinks angrily. “Well, I am. I’m not talking about this anymore, and I don’t want to see you again.”

“Charles, wait—”

“GET _OUT_!”

He doesn’t bother to listen in to Erik’s thoughts, but feels the anger-hurt-frustration flashing from his mind anyway. And then he feels nothing at all, since Erik has walked away.

Charles regretted the words almost as soon as he said them, but he’s not going to admit that to Erik, not ever. Let Erik be the one to come back with an apology, if his pride ever allows it.

Charles’s anger has all but faded by the time Raven gets home, but he still can’t shake the lingering betrayal that Erik had used his powers against him. That more than anything is why he doesn’t give into the urge to call Erik and apologize. That, and the fear that they’ll only have the same fight over and over again for the rest of their lives.

Raven notices instantly that something’s up, as Charles knew she would.

“Did something happen?” she asks over dinner, knowing full well that something obviously did.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Are you and Erik fighting again?”

Charles sighs. He suspects that the words ‘I don’t want to talk about it’ are foreign to Raven’s vocabulary, at least where he’s concerned.

“Actually, I rather think we’re done fighting.”

“Oh, well that’s good news.” She pauses. “Wait, did you guys break up?”

“I don’t know,” Charles answers, feeling utterly pathetic and miserable.

She turns from curious to sympathetic in an instant. “I’m sorry, Charles. I guess I never realized it was that serious.”

“I suppose I didn’t either,” he says wryly. “Anyway, I suppose it’s too late for perfect hindsight to do much good.”

“Usually is,” she agrees.

“I’m going upstairs,” he says. _To stew in self-pity, most likely,_ he adds silently to himself. “Goodnight, Raven.”

“Goodnight, Charles.”

He does, in fact, spend the rest of the evening feeling thoroughly sorry for himself, though he still manages to keep from calling Erik. He doubts Erik is having any trouble at all with resisting calling him.

At the moment, anything would be a welcome distraction from replaying their argument over and over in his mind. He goes to the lab, immersing himself in work leftover from the day. At least he can be useful.

*

Two weeks later, Erik still hasn’t called. He tells himself he’s waiting for Charles to make the first move, but as the days pass that looks less and less likely.

He crossed a line using his powers against Charles: true. On the other hand, it’s not like Charles hasn’t crossed lines of his own. Erik is willing to apologize for this, but not for the rest of the argument. So he avoids having that conversation altogether.

In theory, this should give him more time to work on his art. In practice, he catches his thoughts drifting to Charles even more often than usual.

Finally, he reaches for his phone, dialing a familiar number.

“Hello, Erik,” a cool voice says.

“Emma. I need you to fill up my schedule. Forget about the days I had off.”

Emma, thank God, doesn’t so much as mention Charles. “Consider it done.”

“Thanks.” Erik hangs up, leaning back in his chair. Between Emma’s ambition as artist – and his own, for that matter – and the Brotherhood, he’s fairly sure he can stay busy enough to avoid thinking about Charles at all.

*

“Charles, you’re moping.” Raven stands in the doorway, arms folded.

“I’m not.” He doesn’t look at her, pretending to be entirely occupied by the papers he’s grading. “I’m working.”

“You always overwork when you’re upset. It’s your personal form of moping.” She sits down on the edge of his desk and snatches the papers away from him.

“Hey!”

“It’s been three months, Charles.”

“Yes it has,” he says irritably. “Now, give me back my papers and let me work in peace.”

“Agree to go out to dinner with Hank and me tomorrow, and I will.”

Charles glares at her. “I’m not going to be the third wheel to your date.”

“It’s not a date!” she protests. “I’m trying to get you out of the house. And Hank doesn’t even have to come, if you’d prefer.”

“If you want to talk to me, you can do it just fine right here. Don’t think I can’t tell you’re trying to set me up with someone.” He makes a grab for the papers, but Raven’s reach is longer than his.

“Come on, Charles. One night. And anyway, it wouldn’t be the worst idea I’ve ever had.”

“It comes close,” Charles grumbles.

She gives him a sharp look. “You’ve barely left the house in months.”

“I’ve been busy.”

“Busy moping.”

“Enough, Raven,” he snaps, surprised by his own irritability.

She rolls her eyes, dropping the papers in front of him. “Fine. Enjoy being miserable. I’ll get you to agree to something fun one of these days.”

*

“Erik, if you ask me one more time how Charles’s teaching position is going, my mind is going to melt,” Emma snaps. “And then, in a quite unrelated event, yours is going to melt too.”

“That sounds suspiciously like a threat,” Erik says.

“Good. It was meant to,” Emma replies. She waits a beat. “He’s fine. He published a paper last week, so I hear.”

Erik sighs. “You do that on purpose.”

“Do what?” Emma asks with false innocence. “Withhold information to rile you? Yes I do, and it’s worked exceptionally well all year.”

Erik resolves to try to care less about it in the future.

“Anyway, you’re coming to the party, aren’t you?” Emma asks.

She must not be listening to his thoughts, or else she’s just asking to amuse herself. In any case— “What party?”

Emma rolls her eyes, still managing to look dignified. “I can’t imagine what party I would be holding in December…you know, since it happens every year.”

“And I can’t imagine why you would be inviting me since I have never, don’t, and will never celebrate Christmas.”

Emma smirks. “Yes, but there will be someone there you’ll want to see.”

“Who?”

Her gaze flickers away for a moment. “Oh, one of your artist types, I’m sure. Lots of people to meet. Good for your career.”

“You’re speaking as my agent, then.”

“I’m always speaking as your agent,” she says dryly. “But you won’t regret coming.”

“I thought I was supposed to be in California showing off some exhibit.”

“You were. This takes precedence.” She arches an eyebrow, studying him over her drink.

He doesn’t entirely believe her. Then again, the possibility that Emma’s ambition could extend to his art career is not out of the question. Not that he’s looking for work friends, even other sculptors, but it’s always beneficial to have connections. “Fine. I’ll show up for a few minutes.”

“You won’t regret it. Anyway, my backup plan was to tell you not to come, just to see you show up out of sheer stubbornness.”

Erik snorts. “I said I’d show up. It had better be worth it.” He fingers the scraps of metal in his pocket – the little piece he had done for Charles last year, and never given him – and wonders if his next project might draw inspiration from it. At least it won’t be wasted.


End file.
